Flight from Tarsonis
by HashtagSwagster
Summary: Confederate Colonel Vance Aleksander and the 218th Infantry Regiment of the Confederate Security Forces Army struggle to survive in a ruined Tarsonis.
1. Chapter 1

"Enemies of the Confederacy, hear me. We are of the Terran Confederacy of Man's Security Forces. We are the 218th Infantry Regiment; sworn to protect Tarsonis and all her colonies," he said. It was a generic speech; and he wondered whether those things even motivated soldiers just as they did in films.

But his voice amplified over the loudspeaker was powerful and clear; muffling the cries and roars of the xenomorphs that were tearing his men apart rapidly. He could not look to the front-lines of the battlefield; for he saw dismembered bodies and heads literally flying through the air.

The skyscrapers around him were in ruins; some ablaze, some collapsing. The regiment's snipers, logistics, communications and command staff were situated in Alterius Spire, the last unmollested structure within Tarsonis City; and perhaps the continent. Of course; the xenomorph fliers had the ability to topple vast swathes of the continent within seconds.

Even the pile of rocks that he stood upon to elevate himself was unstable. But to evacuate those support units would cripple their position. He sighed to himself. It was a hopeless battle. Who he fought for were businessmen. He had studied the warfare of yore, and despite his years of service in the Confederate Army, was but a colonel.

The Marine Corps was on the outskirts of the city; far from the central business district. The insurgent forces were close to Naggalfar Square; the regiment's location, but the technologically advanced aliens would cut them down if they attempted to traverse the swarms of xenomorphs via air; if they would even bother to aid his men. With a moment of hesistance, he began to speak into the microphone that dangled on the rocks.

"All units, rendezvous at Alterius Spire!" Aleksander said, with nervous urgency. Alterius Spire led to the subterranean rail network of Tarsonis, and from there, the Regiment could escape from the city. As the infantry on the front-lines turned from their sandbags to sprint towards him, they were filled by projectiles flinged by sloping creatures.

But suddenly, they begn to attack each other. His men took no notice, but Aleksander squinted his eyes. Yes, they were still attacking his men - but they were additionally attacking themselves, for some unknown reason. Agonizing pain suddenly struck Aleksander, a migraine. Something akin to radio static became apparent within his hearing. Aleksander leaped from the pile of rocks, screaming.

Adjascent to him was the Regimental Commissar, one whose sole purpose was to maintain loyalty within the regiment, at any cost. And his objective was aided by his powerful psionic ability. Aleksander could barely see him, as his vision became black, and pain even more amplified.

Suddenly, the Commissar - whose name he never learned, for purposes of fear and mystery - began to radiate streaks of miniature lightning from his hands, with the effect eventually covering his entire body. Aleksander noticed that he shared the same pain as he did - but within a moment, the commissar's body exploded, organs and limbs flying across the air, and a large glow appeared, knocking Aleksander upon the pile of rocks that he had stood upon. Instantly, he became unconscious.  



	2. Chapter 2

'And so it would seem that the prodigy commander, one reenacting the old battles of yore, has awakened,' a female, sardonic voice said. Aleksander's eyes slowly awakened, but the vision was blurred. He could see the figure of a face in front of him; one of the same female. His executive officer, Captain Mira Erickson. Aleksander's concentration was destroyed by the crippling headache that still plagued him. But it was a dream. Aliens destroying planets; insurgents powerful enough to attack Tarsonis... and feral, insect-like aliens, one that had given him nightmares since had first seen pictures of them. And now some bizzare chain of events that had caused them to turn on each other, and for a psionic to abruptly explode.

Of course, a bucket of water would soon bring his attention back to the fore. Aleksander leaped up, to see Erickson with a flat, deadpan face. Even with a straight face, her remarks had almost earnt her a firing squad. Aleksander slowly turned his head away from her, to gain an awareness of his surroundings. It was almost pitch-black. He knew where they were. The subway. He noticed in the periphery of his vision, fires, with his men sitting around them. He was too shy to look at Mira directly for long. Without his eyes towards her, he began to inquire.

'What... what happened?' Aleksander said.

'All our psionics are dead, sir. Suddenly, they went mad, or worse. Tried to charge at the men; or...' Mira replied.

'I know,' Aleksander said, confused by the situation.

'From the last report that you recieved, five-hundred men died. From all causes.'

'And what is our location?'

'A hundred-kilometres from Tarsonis City. Only a few kilometres from Alterius Spire did the, whatever happened - cease,'

'And communications?'

'We were warned that the xenomorphs possess the ability to listen in to our coummunications,'

Aleksander sighed.

'Order the troops to move,' Aleksander said.

'Of course, perhaps excercise moving towards a random location is the suitable course of action,' Mira said with a sardonic, tired voice. She knew that he was far too unconfident to question her tone. And, given that society had just been destroyed, she didn't care of reprisals. Brief thoughts went through Aleksander's mind, that this would be his moment of glory. Without the corruption and bureaucracy of the Confederacy of Man, perhaps he would forge a path of victory.

But he knew, and so did everyone else, that he was an inept commander, and that his defense of Naggalfar square was a failure, saved only by some bizzare show of providence. If he couldn't even stare a subordinate in the eye; then what chance did he have? The only reason that he had achieved the rank of Colonel, was that he was less inept then the rest of the Confederate Marine Corps - and perhaps most importantly, not brainpanned. After terrorists had crippled the heating systems of his hometown, Boralis, he had spent a decade in bed, crippled from the frost. He acquired a hobby; that of history. He had no friends; even his own family shunned him, seeing him as something of a freak.

His men held no respect for him; seeing him as an armchair commander. When he had finally recovered and was able to enlist in the Confederate Security Forces, he was still frail beyond comprehension. Officer school was the only possibility for him. The basic training that most recruits endured was impossible for him.

He contemplated on his thoughts for a long time. They depressed him to no end; but they kept him occupied for the long walk through the subway tunnels. In front and behind him were a few thousand men, lugging supplies or otherwise. It was cold and miserable. Above, the sounds of warfare still sounded, although now faintly. Occasionally, the regiment would pass burning trains, and the carcass of xenomorphs, and the corpses of many thousands of people. Some with the content of their heads splattered across the tracks. Occasionally, there would be a child hiding amongst the rubble, and they would be handed a gun, and conscripted into Aleksander's forces. 


End file.
